


Racing

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Skybridger Word Generator Prompts [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/M, Happy Ending, Landspeeder Race, M/M, Sexual Tension, chase - Freeform, illegal racing, mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24218890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: The exploded landspeeders are swept to the side as everyone else rockets around the first turn.  It is far sharper than it seemed on the arena map, as number four struggles to make the narrow slide.The arena was designed to make racers dizzy after a few rounds around the oval track; it is an endurance test, one that worries Ezra.Will Luke be able to keep up?
Relationships: Ezra Bridger/Luke Skywalker, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Leia Organa/Han Solo
Series: Skybridger Word Generator Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980082
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	Racing

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by being forced to watch too many car/racing movies in a row.

The gambling hall is awash in boisterous aliens and the occasional glass-shattering bar fight. The room is so dark that it is a wonder anyone could see in the dim lights and the glow of the holo screens. It is bright and hot outside, where thousands packed the arena designated for illegal landspeeder races. 

Ezra glides to the betting kiosk, a Rodian studying him with glassy bug eyes. Ezra produces a silver credit stick, the Rodian’s eyes sparkling at the major bet. 

Ezra had pawned the money off of a high roller on Canto Bight in preparation for this race. The plan was foolproof, but the uproar that would happen afterwards left all options on the table. He had no idea what ring of Corellian hell they would enter after the credit prize was theirs.

“Put that on the yellow racer, number twelve,” Ezra instructs.

The Rodian makes a noise in the back of his throat. His green-scaled fingers paw the credit stick as he swipes it behind the glass opening. As the Rodian types in the transaction, he comments, “you’re a fool for betting on the rookie, if you don’t mind me expressing my opinion.”

Ezra arches a thick brow and says breezily, “just wanted to give it a shot.”

“Well,” the Rodian produces a slip of paper denoting the payment amount and winning bet, sliding it to Ezra, “good luck, kid.”

Ezra puts the receipt in his black leather jacket pocket and walks around the gambling hall. He finds a holo screen relatively unattended by rowdy guests and stands to watch.

The landspeeder racers are lining up on the starting line. The spectators outside are going wild, waving red flags to denote explosions and bloodshed, howling for at least one death out of the twelve racers. The announcer, a Besalisk operating the controls with his multiple arms, is expressing his excitement as well.

“Our rookie racer today is number twelve,” he says, “the ugliest yellow speeder this audience has ever seen.”

The camera pans to the landspeeder painted bright yellow, the number twelve written in brown. Dual orange stripes representing twin suns are drawn on the back side, ghosting the red engines.

“The racer has decided, like most others,” the announcer says, “to keep his identity a secret from the spectators this afternoon.”

Ezra studies the pilot of the landspeeder. He wears a brown ensemble that acts as a one-piece to provide comfort and mobility. Beneath an orange helmet with red stripes is a light strip of black cloth covering the driver’s nose and mouth. From the camera’s limited view, a spectator could only tell the being was a humanoid man with tan skin, a blast shield shading his blue eyes.

Those eyes could make Ezra do anything, even entertain this crazy idea to get money to fund the Republic’s latest project: galaxy-wide health care accessible to all beings. While some superiors were against the idea of winning credits illegally, money was money.

Leia was the first one to support the idea of getting credits however possible. He was not expecting a radical viewpoint to come from a former princess, but her smuggler husband brought light to that change.

“The race countdown begins now,” the Besalisk says, a clock counting down from sixty seconds.

Ezra’s surroundings congest. Beings conversing with cocktails around the tables turned their heads towards the nearest holo screen. Ezra shifts his feet, a little on edge, as he is enveloped by a crowd of Twi’lek businessmen. He does his best to blend in, the Force buzzing as it always does when faced with an energetic crowd.

The racers belt into their driver’s seat, the fan favorites waving and kissing paramours as the cameras hone in on them.

This plan will work perfectly, save for the chaos afterwards.

The camera pans away in the final ten seconds. Landspeeder engines roar through the speakers, and drunken beings around Ezra shout in excitement.

The announcer yells, “and they’re off!”

Green lights at the starting line blare, and the landspeeders shoot off like blaster bolts. Number twelve, the yellow landspeeder, lingers in the back as number nine and seven collide right away.

“Already,” the Besalisk laughs, “two speeders blow their engines! They’re out!”

Laughter and cruel snorts encompass Ezra’s ears, and it never ceases to amaze him how terrible gamblers are as decent beings. 

The exploded landspeeders are swept to the side as everyone else rockets around the first turn. It is far sharper than it seemed on the arena map, as number four struggles to make the narrow slide.

The arena was designed to make racers dizzy after a few rounds around the oval track; it is an endurance test, one that worries Ezra.

Will Luke be able to keep up?

After Kanan died, Ezra found his path after years of feeling guilty and blaming himself over the past. When he had Thrawn trapped and imprisoned, Ezra found that he didn’t fit in anywhere anymore. The Ghost wasn’t the same, and his family treated him like a broken toy. Ezra loved them all, loved Hera like a mother and Zeb like a brother and Sabine like a sister, but he didn’t feel complete on the Ghost anymore. He needed to move on and finally reconcile with all that he lost.

Ezra wandered the galaxy for years. He worked for the Rebellion and searched for Jedi holocrons and stole to survive.

When the war ended, he was contacted by Leia Organa. She told him it was safe for Ezra to return to civilization. Ezra got back in touch with everyone and even befriended new faces.

Ezra caught snippets in the holo news about Luke Skywalker, the pilot who destroyed the Death Star, wanted by the Empire. He just hadn’t paid much attention to them, focused on where he would get his next meal.

Meeting Luke after he destroyed the Empire was like nothing else in the galaxy. Ezra was used to concealing his Force abilities, barely using them even when he needed something to pawn or eat.

The Force called to Ezra when Luke Skywalker approached him. The Force was a tender hand touching Ezra’s shoulder, whispering a soothing hello that nearly made tears rise in his eyes.

Luke glowed. He glowed like the purest star, blindingly white and carrying the energy of a supernova. But when Ezra gets closer to the light, smiles at Luke’s moonlit eyes, the energy does not burn him: it is as harmless and gentle as a comforting caress upon his scarred cheek.

Ezra has never encountered a being as bright in the Force as Luke, and he remembers how deeply he frowned when they sat across a diner booth at one another. The dim lights that evening were enough to dampen Luke’s golden pallor, but they were not enough to mask the tendrils of darkness in Ezra’s own body. The Force is a black hole in Ezra’s soul, not enough to consume him from the inside out, but enough to render him sick, plagued forever by the teachings of the Sith.

But Luke does not care. His eyes are kind, too kind, but not pitying, not like his family’s eyes after Thrawn. He sees the scars on Ezra’s soul, something that will never be erased, but he smiles as if in understanding, as if telling him it is what they do to survive. He speaks delicately, asking questions without prying or begging for an answer when Ezra was uncomfortable. There is an air about him, as well, that tricks Ezra into thinking this man his age lived several lifetimes before this one, though he has as little knowledge of the Jedi as Ezra himself.

Luke draws him in so easily and so quickly that Ezra cannot even be afraid. Luke gives Ezra the same relaxed feeling he gets when sinking into a lake, or waking from a restful sleep, or curling up in a blanket after a terrible day. Luke’s presence brings Ezra peace, the peace Kanan talked about feeling when he was in Hera’s arms.

Ezra has no idea how to verbalize any of this to Luke, but he has rarely left Luke’s side since they met. Ezra would follow Luke anywhere, including this very endeavor.

The landspeeders are halfway through the race. As Ezra tunes back in, numbers two and four collide from a dizzy spell. Number twelve, Luke, screeches away just in time to avoid the impact. 

When Luke cockily told Ezra that he could win the race, as he had been a beat racer on Tatooine, Ezra was skeptical. Pilots and racers who said they were good usually weren’t, too caught up in boasts to follow through with true instinct and skill. When Ezra first met Han Solo, he thought he was one such pilot, but Han’s skill in evading pirates during a smuggling run together impressed Ezra.

Luke’s landspeeder lingers in the middle of the remaining racers. Ezra is unsure if he is playing coy; Luke proved to be an underestimated asset, but Ezra does not know the expansiveness or limitations to Luke’s power.

In the final five laps, Ezra senses a change in the atmosphere. He studies the holo screen, studies the yellow landspeeder as the driver presses hard on the gas pedal, watches the red engines flare with excess heat as it pushes forward.

And farther. And farther. Even farther.

Luke skids along the edge of the arena, a tactic to stay away from the middle zone, where other landspeeders could curb him into a sharp turn and end him right there. The yellow landspeeder slots in between numbers one and three for the lead. 

Ezra arches an eyebrow in surprise. By way of Han, Luke impresses him with his piloting skills.

“Our rookie is doing well for himself,” the Besalisk says incredulously. “I have to respect him now. Two fan favorites are gone, but he’s gaining on our star pilot.”

The crowd, both on the holo screen and inside the gambling room, start to boo. Patrons that already lost bets exit the room in a huff. The Twi’leks drift away from Ezra standing by the holo screen.

Number five seeks to enter the lead, recklessly knocking number three into the side boards. However, the racer sorely miscalculates, resulting in both landspeeders exploding.

“More drivers just swallowed sand,” the announcer says, “and we have only half of the racers left on the track! This is the bloodiest race we’ve seen in years!”

Red flags are everywhere in the arena audience, some shouting for more carnage. 

The camera pans back to the race. They are approaching the final lap. Crossing over the starting line, numbers ten and eleven miss the sharp turn and are pushed out into the middle.

“Two racers disqualified!” The Besalisk exclaims. “And the rookie is approaching our star racer!”

Ezra’s eyes widen as Luke’s yellow landspeeder breaks formation along the boards. He creeps out into the middle of the track, kicking up a plume of loose sand. It clouds Luke’s vision, but it also impairs number six and eight directly behind him. They fall back and disqualify from the last section of the race.

“Two racers left,” the announcer says confusedly, “our star and the rookie?”

The entire audience watches with bated breath as Luke makes his move. He presses on the gas pedal twice to make the engine sputter and restart with a new burst of energy.

As number one makes the final sharp turn, he slams the brakes to try and deter Luke.

The brakes shoot number one backwards so slowly that Luke has time to adjust. He swerves past number one and rockets past the finish line.

The arena falls silent.

Ezra’s heart stops. He needs to get moving.

The gambling room is quiet, but he turns away from the holo screen. He masks his expression to play ‘the shocked winner.’

The Rodian studies his wide eyes carefully as he approaches the betting kiosk.

“Well,” he drawls, “I’ll call this beginner’s luck.”

Ezra doesn’t dare to smile in delight. The beings inside the room are moving past their shock, but their whispers are low and suspicious.

“It seems,” the Besalisk reports, “that the rookie is our winner. I’ve never seen a scandal quite like this, folks, but the race is the race. We have a new star.”

The credits for winning the bet tripled the amount on the silver stick. And Luke is set to win prize money as well.

The Rodian receives a briefcase full of credit sticks from his manager behind the glass. He is trying his best to seem nonplussed by the transaction, but Ezra could not ignore the whispers growing around him.

The briefcase slides from the glass opening and into Ezra’s waiting arms. The helmeted security guard lingering beside the Rodian stares hard behind the blast shield. Ezra downcasts his expression so as to not fuel his ire.

“Kid?”

Ezra looks at the Rodian uncertainly.

“Be careful,” he warns.

Ezra purses his lips and nods curtly a single time. He knows what is going to happen just as well as the Rodian. Desperation knows no bounds.

Ezra grasps the briefcase handle tightly and turns away from the kiosk.

Everyone stares from their places, either at the bars or the tables in the middle of the gambling room. None make to step towards him, but the threat is made clear. Someone would take a shot at him once the opportunity presented itself, but he was ready.

Since Ezra cannot help himself, he arches a brow as he glides out of the gambling hall. As he exits the room, he hears the announcer on the holo screen say that Luke will receive his prize money.

Ezra hides his gaze in his long lashes as he rounds a corner and strides down the darkened hallway. He dips into the Force, sensing no one hiding in the shadows. He grips the briefcase as hard as he can without cracking his knuckles. 

He pushes open the back door with his free hand, a burst of afternoon sunlight blinding him for the slightest second.

As the brightness stabs his corneas, Luke’s voice through the Force is a whispering wind worming into his ear: ‘Rendezvous now.’

Ezra picks up his speed on the tarmac, curving along the outer edge of the arena entrance. Angry spectators were already leaving in a huff, Ezra blending into the shadows to avoid their glances and glittering eyes upon seeing the briefcase.

Ezra enters through a side entrance, the arena opening up before him in a flurry of activity and sound. The chaos was apparent, even without looking into the Force.

The landspeeders from the race, whether broken or in permanent disrepair, were stored beside this entrance. It was a garage of sorts when he opened the employee doors.

Ezra sticks to the corner of the garage as Luke stands in the middle of the dimly-lit area. Beings of all creeds were studying him, as well as his landspeeder, for anything that broke the rules. They would find nothing but the truth: Luke was just a good pilot. They had to forfeit the prize money.

Luke, still in his identity-concealing outerwear, hardly moves a muscle as he is examined like a piece of meat. His yellow landspeeder is safe to escape with save for some scrapes.

A handsy Toydarian sets his three-pronged claws along the edges of Luke’s helmet without taking it off, wings beating fast to hover in front of Luke’s slender form. The Toydarian’s beady eyes study him through the blast shield.

“We better not find anything, kid,” he growls as a threat, “or you’re done for.”

Luke does nothing, says nothing. He waits.

A squadron of Dug inspect his landspeeder without tearing out its guts, which neither Ezra nor Luke want to happen. Ezra has no idea how Luke is so calm about this, though; the yellow landspeeder is Luke’s baby. He made it by himself, sourced all the spare parts from defunct X-wings and worked every night on fusing it all together.

The Dug leader crawls over to the Toydarian, who flies a beat away from Luke. The Dug nods, and the Toydarian snarls.

“Well,” he says lowly, facing Luke, “it’s your lucky day, hotshot.”

Luke doesn’t move. The Toydarian flies away in disgust, the Dug releasing the landspeeder from their critical inspection. 

They watch him until the Toydarian returns with an identical briefcase to Ezra’s. It is thicker and wider, however, making an extra layer of golden credit sticks available.

Luke grasps the handle of the briefcase. As the money drops to his side, the Dugs scamper away.

The Toydarian warns, “drive out of here before anyone gets any ideas.”

He flies away abruptly, following the Dugs through a different garage door.

Luke’s head swivels to the shadows, picking out Ezra’s exact location with ease. “Come on. No one’s here.”

Ezra trusts Luke’s judgement without looking to the Force for confirmation. He steps into the fluorescent-lit garage, holding up his briefcase.

“Worked,” Ezra clips, a half-smile reaching his lips.

“We’re not out of this yet,” Luke sobers, walking over to his yellow landspeeder. The briefcase is placed near the brakes, making it impossible for someone to grab it without getting between two Force sensitives, which would never happen.

Ezra advances towards the landspeeder, placing his briefcase beside the other one. Luke hops into the driver’s seat and runs the engine. Ezra gets into the passenger’s seat and takes a calming breath. It garners Luke’s attention, and he removes the black cloth from his nose and mouth.

“Ready?” Luke asks, dimples prominent in his smirk.

A stirring is present in Ezra’s stomach, traveling from his stomach to his coy smile. “Never.”

Luke’s mouth pulls back into a crooked grin, revealing bright teeth and a whisper of his tongue.

He turns his head and slams the gas pedal.

Ezra’s stomach swoops as his eyes tear to what’s in front of him. Luke blasts through the opened garage door, rocketing away from the arena.

As the sunlight assaults them, Ezra’s mind struggling to keep up with Luke’s speed, they are tailed by several vehicles.

“I count a dozen,” Luke says casually, as if discussing the latest holo news. He bites on the corner of his mouth, freckles browning on his face. “What do you think, Ez?”

Ezra cannot tell what is making him dizzy in this moment, but he decides the answer to be all of the above: Luke’s nonchalance in the face of danger, Luke’s little habits that Ezra noticed as they travelled together from lip-biting to ducking his head shyly, Luke’s flashes of beauty and purity at the most inopportune moments.

Ezra glances over his shoulder. He sucks in a breath at the landspeeders gaining on them. Each had at least four criminals on them, and Ezra counted twelve landspeeders in total. Some had high-powered guns mounted on the front, others had blasters fused into the headlights.

“Kriff,” Ezra swears, turning back to the hazy desert ahead of them, “this is bad.”

Luke hums as if he is taking a leisurely stroll, as he often did when he couldn’t sleep. Ezra only knew about Luke’s insomnia because he had his own demons. They collided one night after experiencing realistic nightmares. It is the only time Ezra had seen Luke off-kilter, not truly himself, but Luke’s system of reassuring himself that the past is the past is inspiring.

“Why aren’t they shooting?” Luke inquires, his voice disturbed as he ponders. “They should be shooting.”

Ezra frowns. “Just keep going. They’re waiting for us to take the first shot.”

Luke kicks up dust as he flies into the open desert. The arena is far enough away that the crowds are minuscule dots.

“I don’t think I want to know how you know that,” Luke huffs.

Ezra smiles. “Ask about my past anytime.”

He realizes what he just said, and he blinks as sand dusts the windshield.

He doesn’t open up often. His family was one thing, but those he hadn’t known very long were another story.

Ezra had opened up to Luke completely without even registering it. Luke really could ask him anything. Ezra would be okay with it.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Luke says, pinching his brows together as he glances at the rear view mirror, “uh oh, looks like the blasters are charged.”

Ezra recognizes a city limits marker. “Only a couple miles left, Luke.”

Luke’s protective helmet bobs. Ezra wishes he could see through the blast shield and look into his eyes.

Luke swerves as a blaster shot sears off his side mirror. Luke keeps going as if nothing happened.

Ezra blinks in alarm. “Blasters?!”

“In the compartment,” Luke clips, voice vibrating through gritted teeth. He snakes through the open desert to avoid several volleys of electrical charges that could knock out the circuitry in a single swipe.

Ezra’s heart pounds as he swallows spit to moisten his dry mouth. He tucks a loose chunk of his cerulean raven hair behind the shell of his ear, the motion evening out his trembling hand. His bun threatens to spill out on one side of his face, but he exhales through his mouth to concentrate.

He pops open the passenger’s seat compartment below the dashboard and grasps his heavy blaster pistol. He ensures it is loaded and checks to see that the sniper scope is working.

He absently wonders why the Dugs left the blaster unchecked, but the Toydarian probably wanted them to have it to escape with a fighting chance. How strange.

Ezra spins as much as he can in the passenger’s seat, crouching low so that the pistol hangs over the back of the seat. He closes one eye to focus on the scope, searching for a target.

Luke straightens out his maneuvers as if in answer to Ezra’s request. “Aim for the back side engines if you can,” Luke suggests, panic rising in his voice. “If not, go for the headlights or the blast shields,” he emphasizes, “without killing anyone.”

“I know, I know,” Ezra sighs, flicking his bolts to stun mode.

The landspeeders behind them start to fire, so Ezra hones in on each one. He hardly thinks as he pulls the trigger, knocking the side engine of a red landspeeder belonging to a pack of Jawas. They begin to swear at each other as they crash into the sand.

The second landspeeder, which Ezra gets in the blast shield, is one belonging to the Twi’lek businessmen he watched the race beside. They dovetail into the ground too, their racer smoking.

He shot the back engine of a blue landspeeder populated by two furious Trandoshans, who clip Luke’s other side mirror in retaliation before they collide into another speeder.

“We’re coming up on the shuttle,” Luke says, “we have to move fast.”

Ezra hums; he can’t think about it right now. He fires two shots on a Hutt-owned skiff, which powered down unceremoniously atop a sand dune.

He realizes he only has one shot left before he has to change cartridges. A single bolt is probably all he will have time to fire since they were approaching the shuttle.

A landspeeder with a Zabrak gets close, and Ezra fires his final bolt at the blast shield. The speeder goes down.

Ezra turns around in his seat, the shuttle ahead. “I’m out.”

“I’ll get us into the cargo hold,” Luke says.

Ezra blinks over at him. “How?”

Luke smirks beneath his helmet. “Let me worry about that.”

Suddenly, Luke brakes as they approach the shuttle. One hand leaves the wheel and splays out, palm facing the cargo hold. His fingers bend, the cargo doors opening with a defined swoosh. 

The platform is down by the time the yellow landspeeder takes them up into the cargo area. His brakes stop as soon as they reach the entry door, the landspeeder coming to a perfectly-timed halt.

Ezra exhales, realizing his heart was beating fast during the maneuver. A long strand of hair covers his eyes and ghosts his lips. He blows it out of his face and huffs, “you’re insane, Luke Skywalker.”

Luke winks at him and hops out of the driver’s seat. He crosses the cargo hold and manually retracts the ramp, leaving Ezra’s heart to skip.

This man was so...ugh!

The ramp shuts loudly, blaster fire singeing the hull of the shuttle. Ezra slaps himself across the face to get himself together.

He grabs both briefcases of credits and exits the damaged landspeeder. He takes a breath and ensures the shuttle is closed up before they fly into hyperspace.

Luke dashes past him and calls out, “strap in somewhere!”

Ezra clears his throat as Luke retreats to the shuttle cockpit. The engines fire up as he exits the cargo hold, dropping into a side seat adjacent to the cockpit doors. Each briefcase goes into a seat as Ezra straps himself into the seat, counting three buckles for maximum safety, especially when Luke was flying.

“Ready?” Luke yells from behind the cockpit door.

Ezra barks out a laugh. “Never!”

The shuttle is lifted away from the ground, Ezra’s brain compressing and expanding as Luke banks upwards hard. They’re still being shot at from the outside, so he curves the shuttle away as they enter the atmosphere.

Ezra shuts his eyes and waits until the telltale quietness of lightspeed envelops the shuttle interior.

The cockpit door opens as Ezra unbuckles the seat straps. The briefcases are tucked in neatly on both sides of him.

Luke has taken off his helmet and torn the dangling face cloth off, his sandy hair shaggy. His brown boots clunk on the durasteel and his jumpsuit is unzipped, revealing a form-fitting nylon orange shirt. His empty utility belt defines the curve of his thighs in tight brown material.

Ezra’s mouth waters, and he gulps.

Luke does not notice the action, reporting, “I’ve set us on autopilot. It’s time to look inside these briefcases.”

Ezra nods dumbly as Luke advances, picking up his briefcase and dropping into the vacant seat. He plops the briefcase on his lap and flicks open the latches. 

Flashes of golden credit sticks brighten Luke’s impressed expression. “Never seen this much money at once.”

Ezra grabs the other briefcase and stares at silver credit sticks. “We can skim some off the top.”

Luke snorts in amusement, closing the briefcase. “I don’t do that.”

“Because you’re so good and sweet and perfect?” Ezra swipes up a handful of silver credit sticks. “I need to support myself between scores.”

He catches Luke clearing his throat, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Luke does not look at him, pursing his lips and forcing himself to his feet.

Ezra realizes what he said, and he bites down on his tongue hard. 

Kriff.

“Well,” Luke inhales through his nose sharply, “I’ll comm my sister to let her know we’re on the way.”

He disappears into the cockpit while Ezra’s mind reels. He blinks and understands what just happened, and how very, very good that reaction was in comparison to what he expected when he eventually slipped up and said too much.

It wasn’t like Luke was open about his preferences. Ezra would drawl all day and night about a man or a woman or an alien he found attractive, and Luke would say nothing. Not even a hint at if he desired anyone. In fact, Ezra entertained the idea that Luke was asexual, which wasn’t surprising considering the Jedi’s teachings on abstinence and virginal purity.

Ezra was a virgin too, but he didn’t exude the energy of being one. Hell, Luke probably thought he was promiscuous, but he was just a harmless flirt who didn’t have time to follow through on his boasts. It was hard to desire someone completely when he was running for his life.

But since he stopped running, Ezra’s vision had become a tunnel where Luke was concerned. Luke’s blush finally told Ezra what he needed to know.

He just had to act on it.

Ezra left the briefcases on the seats as he rose, gliding to the cockpit doors. He overhears Luke signing off to Leia about his update and successful mission.

As the cockpit is encompassed in silence, Ezra keys open the doors. They swoosh open, and he hears Luke suck in a startled breath in his pilot’s seat.

Ezra leans against the doorframe. “You know,” he says airily, “I didn’t think you could win.”

Luke’s profile is visible over his shoulder, a brow rising in hesitant defiance.

“Piloting an X-wing is so much different than racing a landspeeder,” Ezra says, “but you make it look so easy. You’re impressive, Luke.”

Luke ducks his head to conceal his face. “I’ve done it all my life. Racing. It’s not a-”

“Big deal?” Ezra snorts, catching Luke’s careful eye again. “Give yourself some credit. I thought you were just another cocky pilot, but you have real talent. Celebrate it.”

Luke says nothing, checking to ensure autopilot was still functioning well. A nervous tick before leaning in the chair and crossing his arms.

“Has no one ever told you that before?” Ezra wonders aloud. “Well, that’s why you have me.”

Luke spins as much as he is able in his seat. “What is it you want, Ezra?” He asks coyly.

Ezra blurts, “I really like you, okay?”

Luke blinks.

“I haven’t known you long,” Ezra admits, “but you’re already one of five people I trust in the whole galaxy. I’m attracted to you, but I don’t want to start something until you’re ready. If you never are, I don’t care. I just like being with you, being your friend. If winning a bunch of credits at a landspeeder race is a way I can be close to you, that’s what I’ll do.”

Luke exhales deeply, nodding slowly. “I appreciate your honesty.”

He spins around in his chair, facing the viewport.

“It’s a good thing I’m attracted to you too,” he says breezily.

Ezra freezes, his brain braking at a sudden red light. He blinks, and the light turns yellow.

“Wait,” Ezra crosses the cockpit, eyes wide as he drops into the copilot’s seat, “really?”

Luke’s profile swivels, and in his blue eyes, Ezra receives a glaring green light. His lips upturn.

“I didn’t think you were such a romantic with your little speech,” Luke teases, “I liked it, though. Better than a pickup line.”

“Have you,” Ezra’s brow climb high, “had pickup lines used on you before?”

Luke’s amused smile only grows wider, his dimples deepening.

“I want to know everything,” Ezra jumps a little in his seat, pitching forward to express his excitement and bubbling curiosity, “holy kriff, I want to know absolutely everything about you, Luke Skyw-”

Ezra gasps as Luke tilts his head at an angle and presses his lips tentatively against Ezra’s own. 

What was Ezra saying, again?

He decides that it doesn’t matter.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @toomanyfandoms99-ao3
> 
> Kudos and comments are welcomed and appreciated!


End file.
